


Espresso Supreme

by doobler



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Feels, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobler/pseuds/doobler
Summary: When a pretentious sounding coffee shop opens up on his route to work, Tony finds himself drawn in and falling hard for the mysterious barista behind the counter.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony often found himself straddling the line between luxury and common comfort. He indulged in the occasional caviar and truffle combo, usually at 1am when he felt like his life was doomed and falling apart. He also liked buying a dozen of the cheapest donuts he could find, scarfing them all in an instant, and washing them down with immediate regret. He liked what he liked and, in his opinion, that was all that mattered.

So when a coffee shop popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, only a block away from Stark Industries, his interest was immediately piqued. It was a bizarre combination of avant garde and down-to-earth charm, the front of the shop looking sharply modern but also decorated with homey looking plants in clay pots. The name-- Espresso Supreme-- sounded brash and bold but the font reminded him of a cheesy Hallmark card. The store's mere existence was enigmatic and enticing, much like Tony's own tastes. Given he was ahead of schedule, he decided to surrender to his own curiosity and stepped inside.

He was immediately awash with the smell of incense and flowers, jasmine and hibiscus probably. The ceiling was open, baring dark metal beams and light wooden paneling. The counter looked handmade, sawed, buffed, and lacquered with care. There was a petite pastry case filled with a variety of sweets. A particularly fudgey looking chocolate tart caught Tony's eye. Here and there, a few people sat on cushy pillows and padded benches, sipping away or munching in silence. Soft music was coming from somewhere, probably a PA system. 

Tony ambled over to the register, delighted for a brief moment to find that a clunky old counting machine was missing and instead replaced with one of his own Stark-brand smart tablets. The cashier was a solid looking man, his head shaven and his face seemingly set in stone. He grunted softly when Tony stepped forward.

"Mornin'!" Tony beamed, laying the charm on thick. "I almost missed you guys on my way to work! When did you decide to drop on by?"

"We opened a week ago." The cashier's voice was an octave lower than Tony anticipated. "What would you like to order."

Tony blinked rapidly, looking between the cashier's brusque disposition and the menu behind him. It was a chalkboard, the items and prices written neatly. For a moment, his vision seemed to swirl, utterly baffled by the endless options before him. Until now, he'd frequented the exact same coffee shop for ages. All he had to do was walk in and his order was made ready. He still had no idea what it was, only that it tasted good.

"Uh. A... Medium latte. Please." Tony's eye twitched slightly.

"Light, medium, or dark roast."

".... Mmmmmmedium?"

The cashier scrawled his order onto a cup, passing it along before looking expectantly at Tony. He snapped out of his inner monologue, fishing out his phone and tapping it against the card reader. The tablet chimed, prompting the cashier to twist it around. Tony signed with a flourish. He went to end the interaction with a witty quip, only to be metaphorically shoved aside by the next customer. With his tail between his legs, Tony shuffled to the pick-up counter.

Working away was the most gorgeous barista Tony had ever laid eyes on.

His hair, midnight black with a few artistic streaks of grey at the temples, was perfectly coifed, swooping back and skyward. He was tall (at least compared to Tony) and slender, though an undeniable fit physique twisted under his darkly colored uniform. He had a tan, light enough that he was undoubtedly Caucasian but dark enough that he could be biracial. An aura of certainty rolled off of him in waves. He worked like a pro, brewing a shot without even looking as he steamed and frothed an appropriate amount of milk. His twists and flips and juggles seemed second nature, not an act of arrogance. He tossed a bottle of milk from one hand to the other, skimming a spoonful of foam with a flick. His pour from cup to cup was effortless, never spilling a single drop. When he edged closer to grab a cardboard sleeve, a flash of cologne swirled into Tony's lungs. He smelled like spices from a far off land.

He was simply magical 

Tony shook his head, chiding his stupidly innocent subconscious. Magic was a false bedtime story to help children flee from the horrors of real life. Science was the only absolute.

"Medium latte." The barista called. His voice, like the cashier's, was baritone, but a soothing warmth seemed to punctuate every syllable. 

Tony stepped forward, a flirtatious line already loaded on his tongue. It fizzled out of existence, however, when the barista glanced up to meet his gaze.

His eyes were otherworldly. They were blue and green like the endless ocean, like the sky at sunset, like the air on a perfect summer day. A spark of something shone behind his stare. Tony couldn't put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it would no doubt follow his dreams for at least a week.

"Th-uh-than-thhhhh-thanks." Tony replied intelligently.

A smug smile crossed the barista's lips. Before he turned back to his work, Tony caught a glance of his nametag and the chill of deeply rooted interest clenched around his heart.

"Strange."

  


Tony spent all his free time that day and well into the night studying coffee. Part of him was screaming that this was a minor crush, a wave of sexual gaseous fumes stemming from his infinite loneliness. He smothered that rhetoric with his second donut in ten minutes, reading up on the Wikipedia page "List of Coffee Drinks" while he tinkered away.

"All coffee drinks are based on either coffee or espresso, in different strengths; some drinks have milk or cream added, some use steamed milk, cream, plant based milk, or foamed milk, some have flavorings or sweeteners, some have alcoholic liqueurs added, some are combinations of coffee with espresso or tea...."

Tony sighed through his nose. He set down his soldering torch, rubbing at the space between his eyebrows. Mechanics, weaponry, technical blueprints; all were simple English in the face of the article. Tony thought himself a smart man, incredibly so, but clearly his brain was wired one way. That way was as far from drink making as possible. Apparently. Back when he was a raging alcoholic, he never really paid much attention to how things tasted. What was important was that he was inebriated and that was it. They weren't drinks to enjoy, they were a venue to smother his pains and transgressions.

"Ohh I'm a fucking basket case." Tony groaned.

"I wasn't aware that was something that needed to be spoken aloud, Master Stark."

Tony jumped, his heart hammering in his chest. From the door, Jarvis was beaming.

"It's nearly 1am, sir. I would advise you to get some sleep. Only if you wish to make it to your new beloved coffee shop on time."

Tony bristled. For being an older man, Jarvis was sharp as a tack with the hearing of a bat and the intuition of a Bloodhound. Not that Tony wanted his beloved butler and guardian to ever change.

"I didn't even have a proper conversation yet but I'm fucking shaking like a leaf at the thought of seeing him again," Tony stood, knocking over his tools in the process. He ran a bio-fuel slicked hand through his hair. "I've dealt with crime lords and done massive public addresses with no problems but facing a man I don't even know the name of is fucking terrifying me."

"I suggest you sleep on it, sir." Jarvis quirked a brow and a minute smile played at the corners of his lips. "Meditate if you need to and get some rest."

Once he left, Tony swore his woes under his breath. He begrudgingly packed up, shutting off the lights in his garage with a snap of his fingers. Jarvis was right, of course. The best course of action was simply to chill the fuck out and hope for the best.

Tony stripped down, collapsing into bed with a groan. For a moment, the mystery barista left his mind, replaced with the promise of real work in the morning. Developing new cellphones and handheld devices was like watching paint dry but it made Stark Industries filthy rich and kept the Stark estate afloat. While he didn't want to return to his old life as a merchant of (unknowing) death, he secretly wished that somehow, his inventions could somehow fuel his existence instead. 

"I bet there's a me in an alternate universe that has a better job that this," Tony lamented into his pillows. "I'm so jealous of that spoiled bastard."

With that, he clicked off the lights and hoped he'd surrender to sleep quickly.

  


The next morning, Tony tried his best to be cool as a cucumber. He waltzed into Espresso Supreme like he owned the place, only to immediately feel insecure and tone down his swagger. He leaned against the counter, letting his eyes snag on the cashier's nametag.

Wong.

"Good morning!" Tony chimed, flashing his best paparazzi smile. "I'll take a Caffè Medici, if you please!"

Wong's eyebrows raised a millimeter. He glanced over to the barista and they shared a knowing look.

"Ring it up as a medium latte." Strange replied, already getting to work on Tony's order.

Wong mumbled something under his breath, possibly in a different language, before punching in the order and spinning the tablet around. This time, Tony signed with a smiley face, looking awfully pleased with himself. He scooted down the counter, looking expectantly at his caffeinated crush.

Strange had worked quickly the day before but clearly, today he slowed his pace so Tony could watch. Two shots of dark espresso were brewed simultaneously on parallel machines. An orange seemed to appear out of nowhere (it'd been in the mini-fridge but Strange had hidden it in his sleeve) and was promptly shaved into a cup. Once Strange felt there was enough rind, he poured the two shots into the cup, one in each hand, and gingerly plopped a dollop of whipped cream on top.

"Caffè Medici." Strange recited. There was a mischievous glint in his eye that made Tony's heart skip a beat.

As he took a sip, he vaguely noticed that Strange's hands were covered in thin gloves with the fingertips barely exposed. Before he could comment, the rush of bitter espresso, sharp orange rind, and cloying cream assaulted his senses. He spluttered, earning a soft chuckle from the coffee master.

"I didn't expect you to like it," Strange smirked, taking a second to wipe down his station. "You don't seem that intimately familiar with coffee and a Caffè Medici is a bit intense for new drinkers."

"I'm not a new drinker," Tony scowled into his cup. He acted like he was going for another sip, only to snag a mouthful of plain whipped cream. "Just... New to the experience of choice. I'm used to either K-Cups or whatever the fuck I got every day at my previous coffee place."

A twinkle of interest passed across Strange's face. He pulled out his phone, tapping away.

"Do you like any of the following; caramel, coconut, gingerbread, cardamom, chilli peppers, mint." He rattled off.

"Yes, allergic, no, maybe? Yes, and in my toothpaste."

Strange hummed to himself, typing furiously before tucking his phone away. He grabbed the cup from Wong's outstretched hand and began working on the next order.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Strange asked, avoiding Tony's gaze.

"Uhh probably."

"When?"

"Same time I guess."

"Great. I'll have something then."

Tony narrowed his eyes, doubt lingering on his face. When Strange said nothing, Tony realized he was dismissed. Taking his nasty concoction in hand, he left without another word.

  


As clouds passed overhead the morning after, a metaphorical cloud passed over Tony's heart. The subsequent deluge of rain meant traffic was hellish and he had no time to drop by Espresso Supreme. What was the point of owning an entire company if you had to adhere to a strict attendance policy? Of course, that policy's name was Pepper Potts but that wasn't the point.

Tony had to wait a whole 24 hours before he could catch his knight in shining chrome and black canvas. The wind chime above the door jingled and, as if sensing his presence, Strange looked up. He smirked, mostly to himself, and took a moment to whisper something to Wong.

When Tony got to the front of the line, Wong already had the tablet twisted around, prompting the man for a signature.

"I didn't even...?"

"Stephen says it's on his dime this time."

Stephen.

Stephen Strange?

Or was Strange a nickname?

It didn't matter. Tony finally had a proper sounding name to go with his walking wet dream.

Tony smiled. For a moment, he entertained the idea of signing with a doodle of a penis. When he remembered who exactly was ringing him up, he instead signed with his customary John Hancock and slid down the counter.

"Y'know I own an entire company, right?" Tony leaned against the bar, cringing inwardly. That was a one-night stand pick up line he used only in times of desperation. "I can pay for my own drinks."

"Yes but this is experimental," Stephen replied, scooting a mystery drink towards Tony. "I don't want you looking for a refund if it backfires."

Tony grinned from ear to ear before taking a sip. 

It was unlike anything that had ever touched his tongue before. Spicy yet sweet, warm and flavorful but succulently creamy, full bodied and complex. Every sip, every smack of his lips unlocked a new layer. Chilli and caramel and salt and molasses and cinnamon and clove all exploded in his mouth, leaving stars to dance in his eyes.

"Fucking christ, that's a spiritual journey in a goddamned cardboard cup." Tony gaped.

"I wanted to call it the Strange Success but that name fails before it's even uttered." Stephen replied, laughter glossing his words. "You like it?"

"I wanna ask it's daddy for permission to fucking marry it."

"Permission granted."

A beat of silence passed between the pair and Tony was suddenly aware that he had no idea where to go now. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. When he opened his mouth, he wanted to ask Stephen on a date, take him somewhere nice, get him between his silken sheets. Instead--

"Thanks. It's really fucking good. Uh same time tomorrow, maybe you can blow my mind again?"

Stephen's smile reached his ocean/sunset/summer breeze eyes.

"Sounds like a plan, Mr.Stark." The barista replied. "I don't work on Sundays but I have the night shift on Saturdays so. Keep that in mind."

Tony immediately wrote a mental note, trying to remember what day it was currently. Thursday, he realized.

"Alright. Sounds uh. Sounds good."

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr.Stark."

"You too, Mr.Strange."

  


Tony had nightmares. He had them a lot. After barely surviving his kidnapping in Afghanistan, he dreamt often of never leaving, of being trapped in a den of blood and metal until he succumbed to death. He often woke from those nightmares, clawing at the scar in the center of his chest, feeling an emptiness that kept him up until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes he'd call Pepper, letting the phone go to voice mail just so he could hear her voice. A few times, he played an old voice mail from Rhodey, one where his best friend's voice was filled with delight, drunkenly wishing him a belated birthday. On the rarest occasion, he'd gently wake up Jarvis and the pair would sit silently in the Stark mansion's library, sharing a pot of freshly brewed tea. Those nights were commonplace after the incident but gradually spaced out over time. Soon, they only happened about once a month.

For the first time ever, in the dead hours of Friday morning, Tony thought of Stephen.

They'd known each other for barely a week and yet Tony was fucking enamored. If Stephen was so sharp, genuinely intelligent, why did he work a simple job in a coffee shop? Why did he seem to always be wearing gloves? Was he much older than Tony or were his streaks of grey from years of stress? Why were his eyes so striking but filled with so much pain?

The man was an absolute enigma.

Tony spent a solid hour conjouring up his own backstory. Stephen had been a firefighter in his youth. No, that was too cliche. He'd been an experimental biomedical engineer when disaster struck. God, that was even worse. He was a sharp man who probably had a mathematical background who suffered from some sort of inherited condition that damaged his hands somehow. That sounded significantly more realistic. The barista job had been a spur of the moment decision that Strange fell in love with and there he remained. Happily ever after.

The idea of the puzzling coffee master obtaining a happy ending lulled Tony into a light sleep. He was able to close his eyes and rest until his alarm blared to life a couple hours later. When he awoke, groggy but better than he usually faired after a nightmare of that caliber, he could taste the faint tang of strong coffee on his tongue.

  


"Wong."

"Mr.Stark."

Tony beamed. He propped his hip against the counter, breathing in deeply. The earthy wooden smell that permeated through Espresso Supreme somehow helped him perk up, almost as much as the coffee did.

"Could you ask Mr.Strange if he could make me something with lethal amounts of chocolate?" Tony asked, tipping down his sunglasses and winking.

"Do you have an aversion to ordering something normal off the menu?" Wong replied. Despite his protest, he handed a cup to Stephen who scribbled down an order and passed it back.

Once Tony paid (snagging a chocolate covered biscotti for Pepper as well), he waltzed down the counter, taking his favorite spot in the shop. A faint smile was on Stephen's face as he worked. The music playing overhead was different than usual. The soft windpipes and traditional strings were replaced with poppy 80's hits. As he moved from station to station, Stephen's hips swayed to the beat. When he was still, his foot tapped quietly.

"You seem to be in a good mood today, Strange." Tony spoke up.

"It's Friday," Stephen smiled a bit wider. "Everyone loves Fridays."

He passed the drink over to Tony and their fingers brushed together. Tony tried to keep his cool, smothering his anxiety with a sip of his drink. It was creamy, rich, and well balanced. A kick of bitter cocoa was offset by the cloying sweetness of gooey honey. The taste of coffee was in the background, earthy and smooth rather than acidic or fruity. Tony found himself taking a longer gulp than he intended.

"Fuck, that's amazing," He sighed. "One day, I'm gonna pry a recipe out of you, I swear."

"Over my dead body, I take my recipes to my grave." Stephen laughed.

That awkward silence passed between them again as both didn't know where to go next. This time, Stephen broke first.

"I appreciate your loyalty, Stark," He avoided eye contact and, for the first time, Tony noticed a tremor in his hands. "Working here is a dream but I think I intimidate our customers. No one really seems to uh. Chat like you do."

"I'm just commending the master on his craft is all," Tony beamed, ever humble. "Plus, not just anyone can keep up with me like you seem to."

Stephen laughed a proper genuine laugh, sharp and bursting from the pit of his chest. There was a flash of teeth, perfect and ivory. On anyone else, the face he pulled would've been dorky at best.

To Tony, it was beautiful.

"See you tomorrow?" He prompted.

"It's Saturday?"

"I know."

Stephen cocked his brow, trying to peer past Tony's sunglasses to read his face. He nodded slightly, cheeks taking on the faintest flush when Tony winked. 

He swore he wasn't staring directly at the other man's ass as he left.


	2. Chapter 2

"Pepper, help me."

Ms.Potts looked up from her laptop, eyebrows already raised in annoyance. She took her time in saving and closing the file she was working on before turning her attention in full to her boss.

"Yes, Mr.Stark?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Pepper, help me. I think I'm in love."

She started laughing, humor rising up in her chest, only to stop when Tony didn't smile. He looked distraught, knuckles going white as he gripped the edge of her desk. Looking down the hall, Pepper gently shut her laptop and took her boss's hands, leading him into his office and closing the door.

"What the hell is going on, Anthony?" Pepper hissed. "You look like shit-- how much sleep did you get last night? Are you having nightmares again? I asked Jarvis to push that health plan but I don't--"

Tony shoved his nearly empty cup of coffee into Pepper's face. She scowled for a moment, taking it only when Tony looked legitimately insistent. Without saying a word, she took a sip. 

Coffee wasn't really Pepper's thing. She wasn't a fan of the dependence the drink seemed to bring so she stuck to mildly caffeinated tea and the occasional alcoholic drink. This coffee, however, was on a whole other level. She felt immediately transported to her youth, sitting in the living room with her family in the dead of winter. The happiness and joy that came with the holidays seemed to linger on her tongue, centered on the delicate balance between cream, chocolate, and rich coffee. 

"Fuck." She whispered. "Is it--"

"No. It's the man who made it." Tony dragged a hand down his face as a cry of anguish was ripped from his chest. "I met him less than a fucking week ago and yet I'm already so far gone, Peps, I feel like I'm fucking dying!"

Pepper surreptitiously took another sip, pursing her lips in thought. If a man made her such amazing coffee every morning, she could see herself falling as well. Maybe not as hard but Tony really never did things in halves.

"I know!" Tony perked up, darting forward to cradle his beloved assistant's face in his hands. "You should scope it out! Go and get a drink, see him, chat, figure out if I've gone fucking insane or not!"

Pepper grimaced, looking between the now empty cup in her hand and her boss's face. Tony was pulling every trick up his sleeve, alternating between puppy dog eyes and a look of holy admiration. With a groan, Pepper hurled the cup into a nearby trash can and went for the door.

"After this, no more little favors, we operate on a strictly employer/employee relationship." She grumbled as she went for her purse.

"Of course, dear!"

 

It wasn't until she opened the door to Espresso Supreme did Pepper realize she didn't even know the poor bastard's name. She eyed the cashier warily, immediately dismissing him as the possible crush, and instead looked for the barista instead. Beyond the register, she could see a head bobbing around behind the display of coffee machinery. That had to be her guy.

Before approaching the cashier, she scanned the menu for the farthest drink from coffee. She settled on a tea latte.

"Hello." The cashier grunted. Definitely not her man.

"Hello. I would like a medium tea latte please." Pepper replied.

"Which tea?"

"Uhm. Whatever the barista recommends."

The cashier grunted again, scribbling the order onto a cup and passing it along. Pepper paid and scrawled her signature, dropping a five dollar bill into the tip jar before scooting down to the pick up counter.

The barista was definitely attractive, she noted. Pepper admired his strong jaw and effortless charm, warm eyes and the faintest smile on his lips. He didn't resemble Tony's usual type of men but, then again, that facet of his life was still rather private, even to Pepper. She'd only ever seen a small handful of men drape themselves around her boss, usually young and lithe with big eyes and heart-shaped faces. This barista was mature and exuded an air of quiet professionalism. Pepper could easily see the allure.

"Are you a fan of spices?"

Pepper shook herself from her tirade, startled by the deep timbre of the barista's voice 

"Oh. As opposed to?"

"Something more herbal."

"Either is fine, really, I'm not picky."

The barista-- his nametag read Strange-- nodded once. His hands moved like they had a mind of their own, dancing around independent of one another yet totally in sync. One steamed a cup of milk, aggravating the growing foam, as the other prepped a cup, planting a tea bag and adding the lightest dash of raw sugar. Pepper watched, entranced.

"I hope this is to your liking." Strange passed her the cup, drawing his hand back quickly.

"Oh. Thank you."

It was still steaming but Pepper was eager to sample. The most delicate sip exploded across her palette, a harmonious display of silken smooth chocolate and dark sinful cherries. A chill ran down Pepper's spine. She'd never had such a combination in her tea but found herself immediately transfixed.

"This... Isn't herbal or spicy." Pepper announced.

Strange looked at her, swiping his thumb across his lower lip. Pepper mirrored his movement, finding a splotch of chocolate on her fingertip. It'd been from Tony's coffee.

"You enjoy the rest of your Friday, miss." Strange returned to his work, hips swaying to the soft rock playing overhead.

Pepper left in a daze. She whipped out her phone, texting with one hand and drinking with the other.

 

"You're not insane"

 

Saturday morning was meant to be the first proper break for Tony in weeks but instead, he spent its entirety doing his best impression of a teenage girl before her first homecoming dance. He styled his hair one way, only to change it back. He tried on multiple outfits, too many to count, then tossed them back into the closet with a huff. He tried bronzing cream, eyeliner, toner, a face mask, almost managed a second mask, and tried his damnedest to follow a YouTube tutorial on highlighting. In the end, he rinsed everything off in the steam of his third shower that morning, cursing as layers of product swirled down the drain.

"If I may, Master Stark," Jarvis poked his head into Tony's room, making the younger man yelp. "Merely wear what you usually would on a day like this?"

"It's my day off, Jarvis," Tony snapped back, pulling his boxers on much higher than need be. "I'd be... Fuck, I'd be in my workshop in a ratty old shirt and tattered jeans. Ugly shoes. Meant for comfort, not seduction."

"And? Is there a problem with that, sir?"

"Uh yes? Duh? He's so fucking suave in a barista uniform, I can't one-up him in shit I wear just to keep my skin from catching on fire. I need something sleek and sexy and effortless but... Nothing's clicking."

"Do you trust me, sir?"

Tony dropped his shoulders, sighing softly. An affectionate smile played at his lips.

"Yes, Jarvis. With my life."

"Then allow me to help," The butler beamed, surveying the mess of clothes on the bed and floor. He ducked into the closet, only to return empty handed. "Your date with destiny isn't for a few hours. Go eat lunch, least you pass out in front of your prince charming."

Tony laughed, leaning over to lovingly pat Jarvis's back before sauntering towards the kitchen. Jarvis watched him go, a blanket of melancholy settling over his heart. He wanted so badly for this to go well. Tony hadn't given himself a break since Afghanistan, working tirelessly into the morning until his hands shook and his body sagged. Jarvis knew his charge was an exceptionally hard worker but a lonely one as well. Since swearing off alcohol, he buried his heartache in work. It was the only way he could seem to stave off the ache inside. Finally, after so long, not only was he looking for love but he was letting himself love to the capacity he deserved. Jarvis hoped it would be his first proper excursion in the world of exploring his own sexuality.

And if it went badly, Jarvis knew how to clean up a mess without detection, bodies included.

When he was sure the outfit he'd put together was irresistible dynamite, he made his way into the kitchen to find Tony crafting an omlette in only his boxers. Jarvis sighed through his nose but smiled regardless.

"Whaddya like in your omelette, J?" Tony asked, the pep in his step having returned. "Bacon? Mushrooms? Spinach? Tomatoes? All of the above? I can appreciate a good variety, even if threatens the infrastructure of the omlette itself."

"Just cheese and spinach, thank you."

Tony beamed. It'd been a while since Jarvis had let him cook for the both of them. His chef skills were lacking but he made up for it with smiles and sincere regret.

Once both plates were made, Tony slipped into his clothes. Jarvis had chosen a tight sweater with no shirt underneath. The soft material was a deep crimson to compliment the navy blue blazer on top. The dark slacks were tight around his thighs and hugged his calves nicely, painting a line to his favorite pair of classy yet comfortable Oxfords. 

"Don't forget these." 

Tony looked up, eyeing the accessories. It was a golden watch, a simple golden band, and a single gold bracelet to match. Despite its heavenly hue, the designs were humble, making Tony look more fashion conscious rather than an arrogant show off.

"Damn, Jarvis, we should collaborate more often!" Tony whistled at his reflection. "I never thought red and gold would look so good."

"It brings out your natural warmth, sir." Jarvis hummed. "If I may offer you one last piece of advice; bring a tablet. Take your time. Get some work done, yes?"

Tony's eyes lit up. That was one of the prime reasons coffee shops existed, to give people a place to work and drink. Here he thought he'd just swing by and be gone but sticking around was so much better.

"Jarvis, you're a fucking genius!" Tony leaned in, pressing a sticky kiss to the older man's cheek. "I'll be back late, don't wait for me!"

Tony practically clicked his heels as he skipped out the door.

"I'll be here if you need me." Jarvis smiled to himself, scoffing his mostly uneaten inedible omelette into the trash with the slightest twinge of guilt.

 

The late afternoon crowd of Espresso Supreme had a different atmosphere compared to the early morning rush. While the café itself maintained a very chill and zen vibe, there was still a sense of urgency that came with the earlier shift. Now, as the sky outside darkened and the wind grew stiff, the air inside settled and a warm calm cloaked itself around the coffee shop.

Wong wasn't at the register, replaced by a man Tony hadn't seen before. He had a sunnier disposition, smiling wide at every customer. The kindness in his eyes weirdly reminded Tony of Santa Claus, only if he were African and beardless and much younger and not fat.

"Good afternoon, sir!" The new cashier beamed. 

"Afternoon, ah, Mordo." Tony replied, quickly scanning his nametag.

"Ah! It's so refreshing when people use my name instead of a command," Mordo smiled wider. "How may I help you this evening?"

"I'll take... Whatever the barista recommends. And a slice of that chocolate tart, please, for here."

"It's made in-house!" Mordo tapped away at the tablet, his smile never fading. Stephen handed him a cup and the cashier typed in the order. "And I see Strange has recommended a special drink indeed!"

Mordo twisted around the tablet. When Tony leaned in to sign, Mordo met him halfway.

"I've heard of your aspirations for our best barista," Mordo's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "If you hurt him, you best pray to whatever entity you believe in that I never find you, or you will never be found. Understand?"

Tony nodded numbly and Mordo leaned back, his blinding smile returning in an instant.

"Thank you! We'll have your tart out in a moment!"

Tony made his way to an empty table, trying his best to shake the dregs of dread from his heart. He whipped out his tablet, unlocking it with a quick fingerprint scan, and pulled out a second tablet beside it. He wasn't doing work for Stark Industries, eager to continue making progress on a more personal project. 

"Working hard or hardly working?"

Tony looked up and grinned. Stephen returned the gesture, delicately placing a mug and plate on the table. The chocolate tart glistened in the low light and the steam curling from his drink smelled like heaven.

"Little bit of both," Tony leaned back, absentmindedly flicking across the screen. "It's a uh. Personal project. So it's not official work. Technically."

Stephen bent down slightly, peering at the display. His eyes darted back and forth as he admired the blueprints.

"An exoskeletal support system meant to pantomime a matrix of vertebrae to stimulate a better chance at spinal cord restructuring?" Stephen mumbled out loud.

"... Yeah, actually, how the fuck did you know that?" Tony eyed up and down the barista's frame, a feeling of skepticism settling over his heart.

"I uh. Dabbled in medicine once or twice-- What exactly is this for? I thought you were an arms dealer turned Steve Jobs?" 

Tony narrowed his eyes, dismissing his internal paranoid ramblings.

"As I get older, I realize keeping yourself stuck in one box is a shit way to live so I uh. Am also dabbling in medicine a bit. Thought it'd be best to help out anyone in any way I can, y'know?"

Stephen smiled, soft and sweet, prompting a flock of butterflies to take off in Tony's stomach.

"Well, I'll leave you to your hero work then, Mr.Stark." Stephen bowed playfully, making his way back to the counter.

Tony followed him as he went, admiring the slim dip of Stephen's waist, the way his dark jeans hugged his rear perfectly, the curves and lines of his back through his shirt. When Stephen passed behind the register, Tony's eyes met Mordo's and a chill ran down his spine. He decided it was best to actually get some work done rather than paint the way to a midnight shanking by a manically protective cashier.

 

Over the course of the night, Tony had at least four different drinks. The first had been what Stephen called "a classic remix of a horchata", followed by a brisk peppermint mocha, then a simple café americano, and finally, a spiced hot apple cider. He also had another slice of the chocolate tart, a bag of kettle chips, half an apple, and a croissant. As the night went on, Stephen made more frequent trips over to Tony's table, nonchalantly wiping down every surface he could locate and sweeping the same patch of floor about five times. Tony was amazed at how genuinely sharp his newfound friend was. They spoke about complicated medical practices, biology, astrology, and even spiritualism, none of which fell short of delightful. A warm glow settled in Tony's chest, making him smile like a drunk as Stephen drew near.

"We're gonna be closing soon, I hope you know," Stephen spoke up, picking up a stool and flipping it onto a table. "Sadly, good coffee runs on a schedule here."

"Nah, it's fine," Tony checked his StarkWatch. It was already 10:57pm. "I should get home anyways before my workshop misses me too much."

Stephen chuckled. He swayed slightly to the music (it sounded like Sade but Tony wasn't sure), eyes tracing patterns across the floor. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again.

"My apartment isn't far from here, would you uh. Like to walk back with me?" 

Tony's eyes went wide. He cleared his throat, nearly dropping one of his tablets as he tried to think up a reply.

"Sure, I'd love to! I'm parked right outside but I don't mind walking."

Stephen perked up at that, mopping with a rekindled fervor.

"You can hang out in the back until I'm done closing up," Stephen instructed. "I have a little more cleaning to do before I clock out."

Tony nodded as he gathered his things, taking the opportunity to finally see behind the counter. He ducked behind the register and smiled to himself. It looked completely ordinary, cabinets lining the interior, housing napkins, cutlery, supplies, the like. Stephen's station was impeccable, wiped down with care. Tony stood where he always saw the barista, convincing himself that if he focused hard enough, he could taste the other man's presence on his tongue. Snapping to attention, he shook himself out of his daydream and continued his nosy exploration.

Hanging on the wall behind the register was a sheet of paper. It had days of the week in columns and names in rows. Tony recognized a few-- Strange, Mordo, Wong-- but saw others he hadn't met yet.

"What the fuck kind of name is Kaecilius?" Tony thought aloud. "Is one of the requirements to work here to have a fucking bizarre name?"

"Pardon?" Stephen leaned across the counter, brows drawn together. "Oh, Kaecilius! He's the other barista that's here regularly. He's pretty damn good but a bit of an... Asshole. We try to keep him here on less busy days as not to... Scare off the customers."

Tony wanted to laugh but the serious tone in Stephen's voice kept him from doing so.

After about 15 minutes, Stephen locked the doors, clocked out, and led Tony through the back. The air outside was on the chillier side, making Tony curl into his jacket. Stephen walked with confidence, leading his visitor around the back of the shop and down the sidewalk.

"That's a slick fucking coat by the way." Tony remarked as they strolled. 

"Oh, thank you," Stephen had the nerve to look bashful for a moment, playing with the lapel of his coat. "It's getting old but it's reliable."

"I'm surprised red looks so good on you."

Tony snapped his mouth shut, swiveling his head to stare forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stephen stifling a giggle.

They chatted about nothing for the remainder of the 10 minute walk, their paces in synchronis, their hands skimming by each other every so often. Finally, Stephen stopped at the steps to an apartment building, whipping out a card key with a tired smile.

"I really appreciated you coming to keep my company," He said, that private smile that made Tony's heart flutter returning to his lips. "I love my job but that was just. That really made it for me."

"I'll have to see what my schedule is like," Tony looked at his watch, an impish grin dancing on his lips. "I might be able to pen you in again real soon."

They shared a laugh before going quiet, awkwardly looming over the stairs. 

Stephen turned to slide his key, only to turn back and swoop in. His lips grazed across Tony's cheek, their goatees catching like velcro. Moving on instinct, Tony twisted his head, dropping a kiss on the corner of Stephen's mouth. They drew back, eyes wide.

"Yes. Uhm. Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Stephen."

Tony waited until he was sure Stephen was safely inside before whooping loudly. He threw his fists in the air, riding the high as he walked back to his car. He texted Pepper an update, his hands shaking slightly with excitement.

Even on the 20 minute drive home, Tony's smile never wavered.


	3. Chapter 3

The schedule kept for a few months. Tony would visit Espresso Supreme every weekday morning, popping in briefly to get his daily shot of caffeine and an eyeful of Stephen. On Saturdays, he'd hang out during the evening, sipping and eating idly as he worked and starting up relaxed conversations with the barista. It took a lot of prodding and time but Tony soon learned that Stephen had been a doctor before some sort of incident kept him out of the medical practice. A friend landed him the job as a barista, one that paid well enough for him to live comfortably, and he in turn befriended the other employees as well. It sounded too good to be true, of course, but Tony was cautious for once and didn't want to press lest he scare off his crush. What they had so far was hazy but good and Tony only wanted it to grow.

The holidays passed. Tony spent them alone. Ice melted and the world warmed. Spring breathed new life into everyone who experienced it.

"Gooooood morning!!" Tony called, whipping the door open with a flourish. April was nestled in his chest, making him feel bright and peppy.

"Morning, Stark." Wong grumbled. The faintest of smiles lingered on his lips. "We have a marshmallow latte starting today that Strange wanted you to try."

"Then he should make it for me." Tony winked.

He stopped, following Wong's sideways glance. His favorite slim waist and shock of salt-and-pepper hair was absent. Instead, a stockier man with a greyed ponytail and weathered skin was in his place. Tony's heart sank slightly.

"Who the fuck is that." He whispered, prompting a hard glare from the cashier.

"That's Kaecilius. Strange called in sick last night."

Tony's eyes narrowed slightly. Kaecilius. He knew that name and could now put a face to it. The man in question had his back to the register, working away. His movements were as confident as Stephen's were but harsher, jerkier. Where Stephen seemed to dance behind the counter, this man was robotic, almost emotionless. A chill ran up Tony's spine.

"Just uh. Give me a medium marshmallow latte, Wong." He shoved a fistful of bills into the tip jar, trying to keep the disappointment off his face. "Do you know when Stephen'll be back?"

"No," Wong replied, snapping the register around for Tony to sign. "Soon, not soon. I'm not sure. Strange sounded awful on the phone so I'm guessing it'll be a few days."

Tony nodded slightly before sliding down the counter to the pick-up area. Kaecilius was dressed like Stephen, confirming his suspicion that the black on black was a uniform. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his shirt buttoned up to his chin. Instead of comfortable dark sneakers, he looked to be wearing dress shoes. He turned slightly, eyes downcast and focused on his work. The skin below his eyes was dark. From lack of sleep or horribly smokey eyeliner, Tony couldn't tell. 

"So you're our doctor's little friend."

Tony looked up, the color washing out of his face. Something sinister echoed in the man's voice. 

"Yuh-yeah. I am. Is that a problem? 'Cuz last I checked, Stephen was a grown ass man and--"

"No problem. I'm sure Mordo has already appropriately threatened you."

Tony nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Good. As he should," Kaecilius placed Tony's drink on the counter. "That goes for everyone else here."

Tony muttered his thanks, snapping up his drink and absconding immediately. A dark cloud passed over his heart, sending down a flurry of rain and lightning. He'd be fine, he decided. If Stephen truly was sick, the man deserved his rest.

Tony only hoped his fellow barista wouldn't slit his throat by the end of the week.

 

"Strange, Strange, Strange-- you'd think such a weird fucking name would yeild immediate results."

Tony thumbed through Google, his soldering iron still flickering at his elbow. He was deep in work but an incessant and annoying buzz hummed at the back of his mind. 

" _So you're our doctor's little friend._ "

Kaecilius was creepy for sure but it was his intonation then specifically that stuck. It was the realization that Strange's past as a doctor was, to some capacity, complicated. That little tidbit had never escaped the barista's lips. Maybe he was condemned or possibly even ashamed of his previous career. No matter the reason, Tony's curiosity was piqued and he needed more to go on.

The term was broad, the fields of science and medicine being endless, so it was challenging to narrow his scope, but he was determined. He spelled Strange's name at least a dozen different ways, hoping that would yield results. He assumed he was a medical doctor, seeing as he understood Tony's notes on spinal cord rehabilitation with ease. Even then, Google gave him nothing.

"Perhaps this is something to discuss in person and not to snoop around for, sir?"

Tony gasped, scrambling in his seat. He gripped at his chest, his breathing heavy and panicked.

"Fucking hell, Jarvis!" He barked, taking deep shaky breaths. "Knock next time maybe?!"

"I apologize, sir." Jarvis didn't look remotely sorry.

He crossed the workshop, expertly balancing a tray of food as he stepped over countless abandoned projects. When he reached Tony's desk, he set the tray down. Coffee, tea, a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, an apple, a sandwich, a bag of chips. He'd come well prepared.

"Seeing as Mr.Strange has never mentioned his past," Jarvis resumed, his gaze lowered as he swirled a spoon through the coffee. "I would highly recommend you not look for answers like this. I'm sure when the time is right, he would mention it to you. No good ever came out of snooping."

"... You promise, J?" Tony quirked his brow, curling a hand around the apple and taking a large bite.

"I promise."

Pursing his lips, Tony swallowed thickly. The sweet juice of the apple felt bitter at the back of his throat. Putting it back, he ran a hand through his hair, reclining in his seat. The HUD before him read 12:25am.

"Perhaps... A gift would impress Mr.Strange when he returned?" Mischief glittered in Jarvis's eyes.

"Yeah?" Tony smiled. "That's definitely an idea. I'll start some blueprints. You should get some sleep, J."

"As should you, sir."

With an affectionate smile, Jarvis made his way out of the workshop, leaving Tony to his work.

 

A week later, Stephen was back.

Tony was thankful, the gift he'd prepared having weighed heavy in his pocket for the full seven days. When he walked into Espresso Supreme the morning of, the air felt warmer, the shop looked brighter. A subtle sunniness emanted from Wong who offered his first hint of a smile in two weeks.

"Stark." He nodded, watching their most dedicated customer's face.

"Wong," Tony replied, matching his demeanor. "Any springtime specials today?"

"I'll see what the barista recommends."

Tony signed the tablet with a flourish, tucking a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar. When he slid down the counter, he was surprised to find Stephen waiting for him already, his hip propped against the cabinets, his gaze burning brightly.

"I heard you missed me," Stephen's bassy timbre sent chills down Tony's spine. "Mordo thought he saw you openly weeping into your cup yesterday."

"Yeah well Mordo clearly needs his eyes checked. I was sobbing, not weeping, huge difference."

Stephen smiled and any lingering ill feelings disappeared immediately. Tony felt like he was on cloud nine, floating high above the city in the arms of a man too wickedly charming for his own good.

"How are you feeling?" Tony prompted, watching as Stephen started to work.

"Better, thank you. Just a common springtime cold, nothing serious."

"I mean. Serious enough for you to miss work."

Stephen nodded slightly, humming under his breath. He brewed up three shots of espresso, ducking under the counter and pulling out a small can while the cup filled with dark bitter liquid. He spooned three gooey helpings of condensed milk into a separate cup then topped it off with ice. A dash of water helped thin out the espresso before it was poured into the awaiting cup. Whorls of creamy beige and earthy brown swirled together before settling, creating a lovely gradient of color.

"Vietnamese iced coffee." Stephen receited.

He showed no hesitation when Tony retrieved his drink, covering the other man's hand with his own. The thin layer of Stephen's gloves served as the only barrier between them. Cold condensation trickled down Tony's palm while comforting warmth seeped into the back of his hand.

"Would... You like to come over tonight for a drink?" Stephen asked. His cheeks were slightly pink but his eyes sparkled with confidence.

"... But you're working right now."

"I meant come over to my apartment."

Tony's eyes widened. Finally they were making progress.

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to." He replied smoothly, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"Excellent. I'll see you at 8pm then."

Wong called an order, prompting Stephen to draw his hand back. He managed a quick wink, lips curling into a smirk, before he swept his hands over his beloved machines and got back to work. Tony took his drink, twirling it gently to mix it better. He took a long sip, moaning happily as bitter coffee and cloying condensed milk burst across his tongue. As he walked through the door, he could hear Stephen chuckling softly to himself.

 

Tony pulled up in front of Stephen's apartment complex at 7:55pm on the dot. He made his way to the door, quickly finding the apartment number and buzzed the intercom.

"Hello?" A familiar baritone purr rumbled.

"Candygram!" Tony replied, trying his best to smother the smarm in his voice.

"About time, you're only five minutes early."

The intercom snapped off as the door clicked open. Tony stepped inside and made his way to the third floor. He barely had a chance to knock before apartment 301 swung open.

"Evening." Stephen beamed.

Tony tried his best not to squawk like a flustered teenager. Stephen was wearing a dark slim-fitting sweater with even darker and slimmer pants. He looked the picture of casuality, his usually perfect hair mussed up in an artful swoop, his posture relaxed. Tony swallowed thickly, his heart hammering even harder.

"Come in, I was just making some tea."

"Oh? No coffee?"

Stephen hummed a laugh, leading Tony inside. The apartment was decently sized, though the endless rows of bookshelves made it feel smaller. Incense was burning somewhere, filling every room with a thin spice-scented fog. Every surface was neat and clean but the coffee table was littered with books, some open to a bookmarked page, others closed and set aside. Stephen made short work of cleaning it up, returning each book to its rightful spot. Music was playing softly (possibly Journey but it was hard to tell).

"Oh, I uh brought this," Tony held out the box he was holding, plucking at the pink bow tied around it. "I assumed we were gonna have coffee so I picked up some stuff."

"Thank you so much." Stephen grinned.

When he took the box, he leaned in close, dropping a soft kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth. He took it to the kitchen, leaving Tony to steam in the middle of the living room.

"Oh wow, these looks delicious!" Stephen called. "I'll have to pick a different tea to go with these."

As he busied himself in the kitchen, Tony took to looking around. The books seemed to be the centerpiece, taking up every possible corner they could. From a glance, the subjects ranged wildly, from cookbooks to astronomy, medical journals to travel guides. They all looked well taken care of but clearly used, each seam and page lovingly turned and appreciated. Tony pulled one from a shelf and thumbed through it, eyes darting back and forth. He didn't remotely understand any of this spirtual nonsense but Stephen seemed to at least be fascinated by it. Page after page detailed the effects of meditation on the body, opening chakras, focusing your inner self, and so on. The herbology seemed flawed at a glance but Tony wasn't well versed in Eastern medicine, or really much medicine at all.

He rubbed one of the page's corners between his fingertips, smiling to himself. 3D imaging software suited him better but the weight and nostalgic scent of a physical book had its comforts.

"Tony?"

He snapped the book shut, delicately tucking it where he'd found it. When he sat on the sofa, Stephen joined him, placing a cup of tea in front of either of them and laying out a plate of desserts. Tony had visited his favorite pastry shop, one filled with sugary Mediterranean sweets. He picked up plenty of baklava and finger cakes, as well as crisp cookies and fillo dough rolls. The tea smelled heavenly, minty fresh and lightly sweetened, the herbal overtones complimenting the taste of spice and rose water.

When Stephen went for a cookie, Tony realized he wasn't wearing gloves for the first time. He tried not to be loud but a gasp was ripped from his chest.

"Oh. Hah. Right," Stephen set the sweet down, lifting his hands. They were trembling. "I guess. You've never actually seen them."

"What. What happened...?" 

Tony hesitated, pressing his palms to Stephen's. The back of his hands were a map of scars, pale lines tracing down every finger, spiderwebbing down to his wrists. They were all precise, clearly expert work, but gnarly nonetheless. A pang of empathy ran through Tony's chest. His own scars, especially the ones sitting atop his sternum, seemed to throb in his skin.

"It was a car accident," Stephen's voice was thick. "I uh. Wasn't paying attention to the road and. It was raining. I lost control. It's a miracle I survived but. My hands clearly didn't."

"... That's why you had to leave the medical field." Tony replied in awe.

"Yeah. Kind of hard to operate as a neurosurgeon when your hands shake."

Tony tried his best not to stare. He cradled Stephen's hands in his own, stroking every fingers and squeezing his wrists gently. Stephen was tense but didn't voice any nonconsent.

"I was... Offered a job at Espresso Supreme through a uh. Rehabilitation program," Stephen spoke up. "Many of the other employees are physically disabled to some extent. The owner works in physical therapy as well so. We're taken care of. She belives in looking beyond what you might feel you are and..."

Stephen exhaled slowly. 

"Sorry. It's been a couple years but it's all still--"

"Fresh?"

Stephen nodded, eyes wide.

Tony took one of his hands and pulled up his shirt. Stephen watched, holding his breath, as his fingers were led to Tony's chest. Right in the center, he could feel the distinct pattern of a scar, twisted and raised on smooth skin. It was circular with a shaky triangular pattern etched within the ring.

"I was caught in an explosion out in Afghanistan," Tony explained. Stephen's palm was warm on his skin. "A... Friend took care of me, ripped out the shrapnel that threatened to stab into my heart. I almost died in that cave, Stephen. I've had my own share of miracles."

Without thinking, Stephen leaned in and pressed his lips to Tony's. The kiss was chaste, barely skin deep, but tears prickled at the corners of Tony's eyes. He let his eyelids flutter shut, indulging in the feel of Stephen's soft mouth against his own, the catching velcro of their beards. One kiss melted into another and another until neither man could breathe. Even as they struggled for air, the kisses continued. Tony found himself sinking into the couch, Stephen pressing into him from above. When his head hit the armrest, they parted. A lone tear was fading against Stephen's cheek.

"Sorry," the barista panted. "I'm sorry, I. It's hard to find people who understand."

"I getcha."

"Plus I also do actually y'know. Like you."

Tony huffed a laugh, tilting his head back to meet Stephen's gaze. Even after all these months, his eyes took Tony's breath away.

"Yeah. I like you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Come chat with me over at doobler.tumblr.com!!!


End file.
